Home Is Where The Heart Is
by The Bunnies Will Kill Us All
Summary: They never said loving a watered down version of Poseidon would be this difficult. They never mentioned the bad weather and the poor decorating choices. DagbertOC. Oneshot.


**_Home is Where the Heart is_**

Summary: DagbertOC. She'd follow him anywhere... and forgive him anything. Oneshot.

* * *

She drew the parka closer around her; the cold salty air whipped her dark hair up and stung at her eyes. The land before her was water and ice. Salt and snow. Barren and cold.

_Why are you even here?_ Nagged a voice in her head, _this isn't your home. This isn't where you belong._

"Home is where the heart is…" she reminded herself out loud. Home. Dagbert. She repeated the two words to herself as she approached the icy lighthouse on the cliff. The whole place looked bitterly cold and dark. The lighthouse itself loomed overhead, looking sinister against the black sky. If not for the lantern lit pathway she would have fallen off the road long ago into a muddy, icy bog.

The ground beneath her was covered with frost, and she slipped twice on her way to the lighthouse. '_I'd come and get you,_' his voice floated into her head, '_but I cannot leave my lighthouse whilst the moon is full. Not this time. Tonight will change everything._'

What was there to change? She wondered silently. Her shoulders ached from carrying her pack all the way from the deserted country station. Not many lived this far north, and the lighthouse was quite a trek from the train station by the salty lake.

Everything here is salty and cold; she thought bitterly, why would Dagbert want to live in a place like this? It's ugly and destitute. '_I know you'll love it, Persephone,_' his voice drifted back, as she recalled their conversation, '_once you get used to it you'll see its beauty. And I'm so happy you're coming, I know how much you hate the sea, and it means a lot that you'll live out there with me anyway._'

Out there. It was accurate enough. It implied the isolation, the barrenness and the harsh conditions. That's where she would be living. _Out there._ Away. It rang ominously, like the word _forbidden_.

But that's exactly what this is, she admitted. Her parents didn't want him, and his father certainly didn't want her. '_Common blood,_' rang the cold, hard voice of Grindelwald, '_filthy, dirty common blood runs in her veins, Dagbert! She is unacceptable! You will marry a woman of the sea, so that your children's power will increase, and the world will know the name of Endless! She will not suffice, she is a land dweller, and I will never call her my daughter! She would be a disgrace to our name! See that, my son, and do away with her before she ruins everything._'

Do away with her. The remark had stung, as well as it had struck fear into her heart. She knew Dagbert would not harm her, but the same did not go for Lord Grindelwald. Forbidden, that's what they were.

Of course, that had not stopped them from getting secretly married. It was very _Romeo and Juliet_. Though she hoped their ending would be happier. And she also hoped that she was not half as stupid as Juliet had been. The girl was far too over the top, though she herself had been accused of such things at times. Grandma always said it was the fire in her belly. But she had always just chalked it up to a shocking temper.

She came across a signpost, faded words were etched upon it, but for their age they were still entirely legible.

_**Watery graves await thee of whom go strolling by thine sea**_

A warning.

"Welcoming place…" she muttered, she was at the lighthouse now. She ran the last few meters to the door, and knocked loudly, eager to be out of the bitter cold.

"Persephone?" called a weary voice from inside.

"It is me," despite the melancholy of being in this place, she could not help but smile at the arrival of their reconciliation, "now let me in before I freeze to death."

"It's not that cold," I heard his ghostly chuckle, and the door swung open. And he was there.

_Home is where the heart is._

"…hey," she said breathlessly, pulling off her parka and scarf. He looked like she remembered. Same crinkly dark hair, same luminescent aquamarine eyes, same inhuman, phosphorous glow. The only thing that was different was the unusual pallor that overtook him every full moon.

His pale lips stretched into a smile, "welcome home, Mrs. Endless." He teased, putting his arm around her shoulder. The words made it all worthwhile, she decided, because from the moment he touched her she felt warm… exhilarated… she felt everything she was supposed to. She didn't feel the hollow emptiness of her usual unrequited love. No, she decided, the most beautiful word in the world is _reciprocal_.

He loved her back. She revelled internally. Take that, Grindelwald. He may own Dagbert's obedience, but she owned his heart.

"It's good to finally be here," she replied. And for the first time since she saw this miserable piece of coast, she meant it.

"You found the place okay?"

"Yeah, thanks for putting out the lanterns. I never would have made it, otherwise. Killer weather." She tried to make it sound like she wasn't bothered, but he saw right through her indifferent act. She cursed her parents for not putting her through drama lessons.

"I'll give you the grand tour." He smiled suggestively, taking her hand, "just leave your bags by the door. You won't need clothes, in any case." An uncharacteristically desirous grin crossed his face, and he kissed her with aggressive enthusiasm. She could only blush in response to his words, and his kiss.

Few occasions left him in such a mood. They'd had a wedding night, but he had departed quickly afterwards, not fully explaining why, but begging her to join him at his lighthouse as soon as she could bear to.

He led her up the winding stairs, and by the time she arrived at the top of the lighthouse she was quite out of breath, but she was surprised to find that the lighthouses interior was actually quite pleasing.

"This," Dagbert raised his arms and gestured to the area around him, "is it. Bathrooms through the door on the right."

It was bathed in warm light, and was richly decorated with deep reds and golds. The furniture looked lavish and comfortable, and the kitchen area looked homey and well stocked, copper pots gleaming in the room's rosy glow. There was a fireplace set in brick that cackled merrily, its mantle was adorned with pictures. She felt heat rise to her cheeks when she finally saw the pictures distinctly.

They were old photos of her and Dagbert together; he'd even found pictures of her family, though he despised them, and put them up there alongside the pictures of his mother. She felt her heart swell. He wasn't usually this kind. It was very out of character, and completely wonderful.

She turned to him; a ridiculously delighted look spread across her face and said, "this is perfect. The pictures are wonderful."

He just smiled slightly, and turned to another door, he motioned for her to come over. She did.

"You haven't even seen the bedroom yet," he murmured suggestively, his fingers trailing over her now exposed back, "and I've been waiting to show it to you for _days_…"

"Sure," she grinned back, eager to get the _professing of love_ underway.

He pulled her inside roughly, the door slammed shut behind them.

* * *

She lay curled up in sheets, listening to the night's wind howl outside her window. Dagbert lay next to her, entangled in her almost as much as he was the sheets.

Tentative touches were exchanged, echoes of the lust and passion that had been acted upon in past hours. Their eyes told the most, feverous glances were exchanged as often as touches. Hazy with dulled pleasure, they simply lay there, warm and contented.

"I love you, Dagbert."

"I love you, Persephone."

"Why was tonight so important?" she asked him, her voice soft as she stroked his face, marvelling at his singularity.

He stared at her for a moment, but this look was different from the rest, it was not a lavish look, or a look of adoration. He looked her in the eye, with clarity and something that resembled peace. It was a detached, unemotional expression. The kind of expression that scared her. It made her worry that he was slipping through her fingers to the corners of his own mind; to a place she could not follow him.

"Tonight is important because it is the night my father died."

Silence. And then…

"What am I supposed to say, congratulations?!" she said incredulously, sitting up. He raised an arm to pull her back down, but she brushed it away angrily.

"I don't understand your issue," he sat up also, gripping her forearm, so that she could not move further, "he was awful to you. It's good that he's finally dead."

"Your father just died and you're outlining the perks!" she snapped, upset for reasons she couldn't quite explain, "what is _wrong_ with you?!"

His expression darkened, and she momentarily regretted what she had said. But it was his coolness, he showed no emotion in the face of this father's death. It made her wonder…

"_Nothing _is wrong with me!" he hissed, gripping her forearm tighter, she flinched, "he was going to try and kill you eventually! He was an awful father and a rotten advisor, I have everything to gain from his death. Your ensured safety, my inheritance, which includes this lighthouse, and a guarantee that he wont kill me in fulfilment of the family curse."

"I…" she faltered, his honest relief at her safety was disarming, and the idea that Grindelwald might have taken Dagbert away from her in the most final way possible was painful to even consider.

"See?" he glared at her, "I did it for the good of many people. We were not the only ones hunted by Grindelwald."

"You did it?" she questioned, not angry, just saddened.

He looked at her, this look begged for understanding, "I was the only one who could." He said simply. She nodded.

"I…"

"What?" he let go of her forearm now, glancing regretfully at the angry red crescents that his fingernails had made in her skin.

"I just wonder… wether you will care when _I_ die."

"Don't be ridiculous." He said immediately, "There is a world of difference between you and my father. The main difference being affection. Closely followed by gender."

"Alright," she said warily, still slightly upset, but somewhat amused at the last statement.

There was a moment of silence, and then Dagbert spoke, his tone awkward and pleading.

"Do you... forgive me?"

"For what?" she asked.

"For being a murderer."

"Dagbert," she looked him in the eye, darkly determined to show him just how much she loved him, to make him see that she would never leave him, "I would forgive you anything."

"That is a good thing," he commented softly, brushing a stray hair from her face, "you must really love me."

"I am here," she agreed, "and nothing less than love could move me to be so. I didnt come for the surf."

"The surf is icewater."

"I know, it was a joke, Dag."

"I see." No, he didnt.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Dagbert."

"Go to sleep," he commanded firmly, "I have had enough for tonight." She knew that was his acceptance of her apology. He wasnt one to talk of unpleasant or important things, he was more in the business of doing, and avoiding.

"You're the one keeping me up," she teased, "because you couldn't wait until tomorrow night to have me."

"What can I say? You're irresistible." he said dryly, pulling a duvet up from under the bed and spreading it over them, "now _sleep_."

She poked her tongue at him, and he gave her a soft glare before he flipped the switch, and the room was plunged into total darkness.

She snuggled closer to him under the duvet, resting her head at his shoulder; he stiffened for a moment, but then stroked her hair softly, humming a soft tune that had once been his lullaby.

_Home is where the heart is_

In the land of ice and water, then. That's just bloody fantastic.


End file.
